Fall
by too-much-like-Luna
Summary: When  Arthur betrays his trust Merlin gives into temptation and joins Morgana, but no one can ignore their destiny forever.  Merlin/Morgana, pre-slash Arthur/Merlin, future fic


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing except for the voices in my head. Actually, I only own half of the voices in my head, and the ones that speak Italian and French. The rest are someone else's.

**Length: **959

**Prompt: **Merlin/Morgana, the Crowded House song Into Temptation

**Notes: **Formatting sucks on this site, so you guys have to have line breaks instead of the nice spaces on livejournal :(

Fall

It's a slow, gradual fall. It's the shadows of the night, the masks of the day, and poison in a water bottle. It's Merlin's eyes peering out from around a corner, it's tears falling despite the best of intentions. It is all of these things, until it's Morgana looking back as Camelot burns, pausing for one moment (frozen in time, the world silent, still, peaceful) as she meets Merlin's gaze (a metaphorical, perfectly forbidden apple).

"Merlin," she whispers into his mind. "This is Albion's future."

The world starts again (chaos cannot be stopped for long) but still Morgana meets Merlin's gaze. Her blue dress blows in the breeze, her hair whips around her face, sticking to the sweat from the heat of the fires, and she has never looked stronger, more triumphant, more beautiful.

"You know where to find me." she says, and disappears in a whirl of wind.

"Merlin!" a voice says from behind him, and Merlin spins around, disconcerted. It is Arthur, and he has never looked less of a king. His father's blood is smeared across his shirt (Uther's hands clutching desperately at anything solid), he is covered in soot, and his eyes are desperate. (Morgana's eyes flashed with triumph as she set fire to the lower town, strong in her determination).

"I'm a sorcerer," Merlin says, and even now, surrounded by the destruction of his world, Arthur's eyes flash with hate.

* * *

Merlin reaches Morgause and Morgana's old meeting place in the forest the next day. They are not surprised to see him.

* * *

There is a part of him, some small part of his psyche, that realizes what Morgana is doing is wrong, is not his destiny, that her plans are fuelled by bitterness and hate. But she is so good at making him forget with words and touches and forgiveness that he ignores it. He feels as though his soul is being cleansed of guilt, of poison and stairs and hatred (his atonement found in every soft "Yes, Merlin, I understand that you thought I had to do that." and "Of course you wouldn't tell me about your magic."). Eventually, Morgana's words eclipse everything, turning memories of Arthur being almost kind into replicas of his memories of Arthur with chains in hand and a determined expression, "Magic is against the law".

This fall, the fall into the dark abyss that Merlin knows has always been waiting to claim him, waiting for him to be broken and pieced back together again, isn't as gradual as the fall he took when he fell in love with Morgana. Merlin falls quickly, and when he hits the bottom he rises again, remade. (The dark should not be soft, comfortable, but it is. It is sensual and seductive and warm).

* * *

Their army crests the hill as the dawn rises, and are greeted by the sight of the army of Camelot waiting to meet them. The Camelot troops are larger in number, but far weaker in power. Morgana walks beside Merlin, eyes bright with certainty.

Merlin is the one to cast the first spell, a ball of fire sent directly into the middle of the enemy army, far more effective than any arrow could ever be.

It doesn't take Merlin long to realize the battle is not going according to plan. Their army is being decimated, and Merlin looks around wildly for Morgana only to find that she has moved to the back of the troops, eyes panicked now.

Camelot has sorcerers.

Merlin wants to cry as he looks at Morgana, her words twisting sickly in his mind ("We're going to make a world where no one like us will be hurt, Merlin. This is the only way we'll be free"). Weakly, he turns to face Camelot. Their Knights are as magnificent as ever, whirls of red among the fallen rebels. And in the front, the golden crown of the king on his head (looking as though it was made for him, as though he wears it effortlessly) is Arthur, fighting alongside a man who is casting balls of flames at the rebels. The sorcerer's hair is black, he is thin. It looks natural for him to be beside Arthur, in Merlin's previous position.

"Retreat!" Morgause screams, and the order is passed along, until all the remaining rebels are repeating it, yelling "Retreat! Retreat!" even as they are killed. Merlin stays silent and watches Arthur. He knows it is not the end, that the rebels will be hunted down, that there will be battle upon battle, and that does not fill him with the optimism it once would have.

"Merlin!" Morgana screams as she escapes into the forest, but Merlin cannot look at her ("Our world will be great, Merlin"). Arthur starts at her scream, eyes widening, and he surveys the area almost desperately until his eyes land on Merlin, no more than twenty feet away.

Merlin lets a sob escape, and he presses a shaking hand to his mouth. Camelot has been fully repaired, and it is clearly visible behind Arthur and his knights and sorcerers.

Weakly, Merlin falls on his knees before his king, and this fall is not so very different from the other ones he has taken.


End file.
